Harriet Potter and the New World
by MaybeSweetMarySue
Summary: Even as a little girl, Harriet loved everything to do with books and fairytales and always sensed that even with her background, she had the ability to be something more. An alternate telling of Harry Potter with a new Harry.
1. Chapter 1

_A quick note before we begin: this story isn't just Harry-as-a-girl, but a very new version of the character. In fact, please consider her as an half-way OC - a new character who happens to have Harry's background. If that isn't your thing, there are lots of other "Girl Who Lived" stories available. Thank you!_

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><p>"<em>Move<em>," Harry commanded. She was concentrating as hard as she could. "_Mooooove_, ugh."

Try as she might, she knew that pencil wasn't going anywhere. Hmph. How frustrating. She was certain she had superpowers. How else had the pencil suddenly floated in the middle of class?

She had been daydreaming during math lessons, as usual. English was her forte and she wasn't fond of numbers at all. She was so distracted, she hadn't even noticed it at first - her pencil slowly floating up in front of her face and making its way towards the ceiling.

Even when she had seen it, she'd been too shocked to really do or think anything. Only when another boy in her class had suddenly hissed at her, "How are you doing that?" did she fully realize what happened, and then the pencil fell to the floor and landed with an audible sound.

"Ms. Potter, are you paying attention?" Mr. Hansen had asked her, sounding exasperated, as she supposed he had a right to be.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir." Harry answered sheepishly.

That had happened on Tuesday. Every day after school and any time she had been free Harry had been trying to make it happen again. It was Friday now. Clearly, it wasn't going to happen at all.

Maybe she dreamed it all and the pencil never moved and that boy didn't actually say or see anything. She couldn't go ask him. None of the other kids in her class were, well, all too fond of her.

Harry was always dressed in Dudley's old things. The ratty, over-sized boys' clothing probably made her look very shabby, and the huge, taped up glasses didn't help either. Neither did her love of reading - the other kids thought that was strange, much like what they thought of the way she always played alone in the corner of the school yard when she wasn't in the library.

At some point in her childhood, Harry had really cared what the other children thought of her. She had been quite miserable. Now, she was happy - they were all idiots anyway.

"**Harriet!**" Her aunt screeched. Well, happy enough.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" Harry called back from where she was reading library books in her cupboard under the stairs.

"**Out here! Now!**" Aunt Petunia continued to screech. It was probably loud enough to hurt the neighbor's ears.

Harriet sighed and rolled her eyes, but closed the book anyway. Aunt Petunia was always very mean... but Harriet had an idea that maybe she secretly liked her niece anyway.

Why wouldn't she? Harriet was a little ditzy sometimes, but she was polite, did well in school, and always took care of all her chores (even though she knew her share of them wasn't exactly fair). She didn't complain, either. Not anymore, anyway.

Aunt Petunia seemed unusually stressed lately and was always acting cranky. Crankier than usual, even. Despite the unlikeliness, Harry wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was planning something nice for Harry's birthday. Dudley's birthday had been fantastic when they got to go to the zoo. Harry loved looking at all the animals and learning about them (though the reptiles did scare her off a little bit). She'd expressed interest in wanting to go back there someday and even though Uncle Vernon had irritably brushed her off... well, maybe, just maybe.

For now at least, it was just more chores. Harry worked away, as always, secretly and silently hoping for some kind of treat. That never happened, but Harry remembered Cinderella stories. If she stayed quiet and worked hard, there's always that maybe. A fairy godmother from nowhere.

Not that she'd want her 'step' family punished like in those stories. She just wanted them to love her, that's all, and that's not too much to ask.

The next morning, something strange happened. After cooking breakfast for everyone, when Harry went to fetch the mail, as she always did, Uncle Vernon made her sit down and did it himself. Now that was very strange. Even if he wanted to be nice, her uncle would make Dudley get it far sooner than doing it himself.

And the same thing the morning after that. In fact, Uncle Vernon had started acting very strange about mail recently. And that made her curious.

_Curiosity killed the cat, Harriet._ She thought to herself. But... Harry was not a cat, so it was probably fine.

Harriet got the mail herself in a very sneaky way, by pretending she was going to the bathroom. She'd think about lying and how bad it was later.

A letter. A letter _for her_. A letter for her. Not just one, but three... though they did all look the same.

_Ms H Potter_  
><em>The Cupboard under the Stairs<em>  
><em>4 Privet Drive<em>  
><em>Little Whinging<em>  
><em>Surrey<em>

How could they know she lived under the stairs? She started opening one immediately (was it from the CIA in America? Or the real life Professor Xavier's school? Or - or - ), but she stopped herself. This was a secret just for her. Couldn't let the others see. She tucked them down her over-sized shirt and into the waist of her trousers. Then she left the mail where it was and went back.

And the day passed as normal. Even when she got a free moment during the day, she kept her letters hidden, just in case someone snuck up on her. Only when she was locked in her cupboard for the night did she dare dig them out.

They were a little bit icky from sweat and being bent, but the ink wasn't smudged or anything that would keep her from reading them.

What she read inside was what she'd been waiting for her whole life. Her whole life! So she was a witch, a real life witch! She had done magic, real magic. And these people at this school wanted her there! Of course she'd say yes! Money... would they do loans? Surely. She kissed the letter, at the signature from kind Deputy Headmistress McGonagal, and struggled not to squeal in delight. The thought didn't pass through her mind that it might not be real - she couldn't bear to think it.

As she assumed, the other letters were the same. She folded up one in her shoe, hid the other under her mattress, and took the third to use in finding that place.

No sense asking Aunt Petunia for help. That was a risk even goodhearted Harry wasn't willing to take.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Tuesday again. A week passed the day Harry levitated that pencil. Today, Harry was skipping school. Her first time doing that. It was worth it.

She was going to the police station. She's read in a book that the station was the place to go for help, especially if you were lost. And since she didn't know how to get where she was going, she considered herself lost.

The station in the town where they lived was small. To Harry, it seemed homely and kind, if a little bit imposing. There were large glass doors in the front reception area.

The inside was a bit stinky. A musty sort of smell, like old people. The cushions on the chairs were worn. There was a strange-looking man in the corner. But the receptionist, seated behind a desk, seemed kind.

"Can I help you, honey?" She asked when Harry walked in.

"Yes please," Said Harry, feeling only a little unsure if this was the best plan, "I'm trying to find a school - they sent me this letter. There's no phone number or anything, or even a return address. I'm not sure if you can help me, but if you could, that'd be great."

Harry handed over her letter. She had extras, one even in her shoe, so it wasn't all too precious.

The woman's face was confused, then sympathetic and kind. She handed Harry back her letter with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, dear, but I don't think your school exists. Someone might have played a prank on you. Where are your parents, darling? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I'm home-schooled." Harry said, "My mom said I could take a break to go see you about this. We live really close, so I walked."

None of that was true. She'd taken the bus and dodged questions in a similar way. She felt only a little guilty saying 'mom'. And she didn't like all the many pet names the woman called her.

The woman shrugged, "I'm afraid I can't help you, sweet pea. I'm sorry to be the one to tell this, but magic doesn't exist in the real world."

"Yes it does!" Harry cried, blushing a bright red at her own outburst. The teachers had always said she was quiet and polite, but not as mature as she should be. That was why. For believing in magic and acting so childish. She calmed her voice, "Yes, it does. I levitated a pencil in class. And other times, too, when I really little, I made things fly!" Harriet was certainly immature, because she felt her eyes tear up a little. Her thoughts flew back to all the other kids calling her a crybaby. A crybaby she certainly was. Childish and useless.

The woman seemed amused with her distress, but kept a kind and quiet voice, "Then why don't you levitate a pencil now for me, darling?"

She indicated a wooden pencil, sitting on the desk.

"I - I can't." Harry said, looking down, ashamed. The woman smiled at her, but returned to typing.

Harry was frustrated. She was acting childish again, she knew it. The world really wasn't fair. This was her chance, she needed to find that school, or she'd never be able to - well, do all the things she wanted and meet all the people and have adventures and make friends.

Harry squinted hard at the pencil. The pencil was her enemy. If she could only make it move. She concentrated as hard as she could. Move. Move.

She was focusing with all her energy. It even started to hurt - badly! _Move!_ She commanded in her mind.

_Mo - !_

With a terrific sound, the pencil rocketed violently into the air and flew straight to the ceiling. It took out the light above and showered Harry and the receptionist in sparks. The noise was incredible - like a real rocket.

When Harry looked up, the remains of the light were hanging unevenly. The glass had broken and fallen - thankfully not cutting anyone. And the pencil was left a splinter of wood and lead lodged in the ceiling.

"Woah!" Called out the strange man in the corner. Harry had forgotten about him. She ignored him and turned to the receptionist.

"I told you I could do magic." She said, indignantly. Then she remembered the light. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't, well, mean to..." She pointed up sheepishly.

"That's incredible!" Said the woman, "How... in any case, I still can't help you, child. I don't know about any Hogwarts school. Never heard of any such place in my life."

"I do." Said the man, "Are you trying to find Hogwarts, little girl?"

Harry whirled around in joy and excitement, the broken light forgotten. "I am! Do you know it? Is it real?"

The man laughed, "Yes, it's real! I think there must have been some mistake. Did you receive a letter, just like everyone else?"

"I don't know about everyone else, but I got a letter." Harry nodded rapidly. She ran over to show the strange man. He was dressed rather shabbily too, with a strange fashion sense. He had a feather spotted with ink tucked behind his ear and carried a bag made of weird-looking leather.

When the man read her letter, his eyes lit up in a strange way.

"What... what is your first name, kid?"

"Harriet." Harry said.

The man seemed astonished. He looked her up and down in amazement. Harry didn't think she was very remarkable to look at. She had bright red hair, kept in a sloppy ponytail, and boring white skin and boring hazel eyes - really, the only thing interesting was her hair and her glasses.

The man whispered under his breath, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. "The spitting image of Lily Potter... and her father's eyes... can't be... can it? The Girl Who Lived."

Harry quirked her eyebrows, "Sorry, what?"

The man shook his head, "Never mind, Harry - can I call you Harry? - I'll explain that later. My parking tickets, I think, can wait. _Obliviate!_"

The unknown last word the man said loudly, whilst in one smooth motion taking a wood piece out of his coat and pointing it at the receptionist. Before she could respond in kind with, say, a pistol, there was a burst of light and she was left with unusually blank eyes.

"Memory erase charm." The man said, smirking at Harry, "It's illegal to tell muggles - uh, non-magical people - about our world. Here, come along."

He turned and left. Harry didn't hesitate to follow him, though her mind reminded her of storybook lessons like 'don't talk to strangers'. It was fine, she supposed, since he seemed to know her, and that made them not strangers.

He took her out behind the station. Harry was a little wary, but followed. What else could she do?

"I'm about to do a bit of magic. Don't want to be somewhere folks can see us."

Harry nodded. It was logical.

He was indicating with his little stick, towards her. It seemed that was what made the magic happen. Though, Harry had cast magic without it - perhaps it was a tool for control, maybe? With two more strange words, he fixed her glasses and shrunk her clothing to fit her. It was amazing! He chuckled at her reaction.

"There's a lot more magic than that out there." He said.

"Could you teach me a spell?" Harry asked eagerly, "That's what those word's you're saying are, right? Spells?"

Her ignorance really did seem to amuse him. "That's what school is for! But sure. What you did in there, with the pencil. That's _Wingardium Leviosa_, powered up just a bit. Give it a try, what don't ya, then I'll take you to Hogwarts, Harry. Ah - and my name's Johnathan. Good to meet you, miss."

Hogwarts! "Johnathan. Wingardium Leviosa." Harry said. Nothing happened. She didn't expect it to, she hadn't directed it at anything.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_. Pronunciation's important, Harry."

Harry nodded. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." She tried again, aiming her thoughts at a piece of rubbish. Nothing happened. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," She said again, remembering to be patient with herself.

Like a little rocket, the tin can flew up towards the sky.

"Woah, woah, woah." Johnathan said, using his wand (she assumed) to bring it back down to earth, "That's some power you've got there, Harry. Try to hold it in a little next time. Wouldn't want any muggles seeing that."

"I suppose not." Said Harry.

"Try again." Johnathan said.

Harry nodded. This would require focus, she felt. She stared down the tin can, making silent insults towards its tin can family and its tin can hairdo, before saying those oh-so magical words one more time.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." The can shivered, but rose, far far slower, like the first time she had moved a pencil. Holding it that way was much more difficult that throwing it into the air. She let it drop, feeling tired.

"Very good, Harry. You'll be a great witch, someday! Already you're far past what I could do, and I grew up magic."

Harry was immensely pleased under his praise.

"Now," Said Johnathan, his tone suddenly much more serious, "I can get you to Hogwarts through Apparition - that's, uh, teleportation, basically. But moving this way can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. I don't want you to try what I'm about to do later, okay? You have to be supervised by a teacher. Promise?"

"Promise." Harry said. How exciting!

"One more thing," Johnathan said, "You must make sure to hold onto me very, very tightly. Even if you think you might be hurting me, you hold on tight, okay? Until we're on the other side."

"Okay," Said Harry, nodding. She was getting the idea that not all magic was this easy.

Johnathan put her arm into his and Harry gripped it as tightly as she could while making sure to not use up all her strength at once.

"Ready." She said.

Without much warning, Harry had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a tube and shook through the air at the same time. It didn't last very long, but when she felt solid ground beneath her feet her knees trembled and she felt queasy.

Johnathan gave her a sympathetic smile, "You'll get used to that." He turned, "Now... Hogwarts."

Despite feeling dizzy, Harry looked up from the ground. She gasped as soon as her eyes caught sight of it. A castle unlike any she'd ever seen.

It was _huge_! And beautiful! All stone bricks, with pointed roofs, high towers...

"That's Hogwarts?" She asked in awe.

"Yes," Johnathan said, "That's Hogwarts."


	3. Chapter 3

They had to walk for a little while to get to the castle. Johnathan explained that the castle was warded, so you couldn't Apparate right into it. Harry supposed that made a lot of sense for security reasons. She didn't mind at all. She was actually feeling a little overwhelmed and savored the chance to clear her head in the fresh air a little bit.

Everything was so amazing! She had cast an actual spell, and now she was going to attend a magic school. And... she was certain she had heard Johnathan mention her parents to himself when he first got a good look at her. Was her mother a witch?

Was her mother... alive, maybe? Would a witch, who apparently lived in 'our _world_' die in a car crash? Harry didn't really know what to think, especially since there were things Johnathan said she'd have explained to her later.

Harry thought about her mom a lot. She had the faintest memories of her. They were what gave Harry the ability to know what love was. Because if she was honest with herself... truly, deeply honest... she knew the Dursleys didn't love her. Not even a little bit. But her mother had clearly loved her dearly and Harry loved her mother too.

Harry looked up when she saw a witch running out from the castle to greet them. She was dressed in green velvety robes and had a tall black hat. She was old and had a stern expression, but seemed to Harry to be a perfect person. A real witch, even with a witch's hat!

"Who - " The woman began to ask. She cut herself off when she saw Harry, carrying the same expression Johnathan had.

Harry spoke up first this time. "I'm Harriet Potter. I received my letter from Hogwarts in the mail, but I think something went wrong. I didn't know about magic before it - not really. Are you Professor McGonagal?"

"A good guess, Ms. Potter - I am."

Harry squealed in joy, startling the two adults slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry," She said, "I'm just so happy - Professor, I started thinking of you like a fairy godmother. I - "

Harry blushed and looked down. She wouldn't have said any more, but the two adults both waited silently for her to finish, so she felt she had to.

"I've always had a bit of a fantasy, like I'm some kind of Cinderella. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia... they really aren't very kind to me. I suppose... they feel forced to take care of me. I know that they spoil my cousin Dudley rotten. I don't know... I just always dreamed that someday someone would sweep me away from all that. I'm just... so happy."

Harry's eyes started to tear up again. Crybaby. She called herself. What was wrong with her? One emotion one minute, another in the next.

She was certainly crying now - how embarrassing her tears were just made it worse. Johnathan looked uncomfortable - but Professor McGonagal suddenly and unexpectedly hugged her. Harry hadn't expected it from the stern-looking woman. Her tears stopped very quickly. A hug - it was a wonderful thing.

"No more of that now. Let's get you inside - I'd like to hear more about the Dursleys."

The way she said Dursley - Harry got the idea she knew them and didn't like what she knew.

Professor McGonagal took her to a small office. The adults walked with big footsteps in quick pace - Harry was so focused on keeping up she could barely admire the surroundings. What she did see amazed her - moving staircases, living paintings, and incredible architecture, like something out of a storybook.

Almost immediately after they sat down in the spartan office, a tiny creature appeared. It was rather ugly, Harry couldn't help noting, but just a little cute at the same time, and clearly friendly, since it left them tea and sandwiches before disappearing away.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"A house-elf," Johnathan said, "They take care of wizards like us - house-elves are, for some reason, fond of work. They... I wouldn't say they're very bright, but they're very kind. Be sure you never mistreat them."

Harry nodded. She wouldn't dream of it.

After that, Johnathan introduced himself and explained to the professor how he'd come to meet Harry. Harry, in turn, explained about the letter and how she had unknowingly cast magic.

They didn't say anything during her story, but Harry caught the two adults sharing unhappy glances. She wondered if maybe she had done something wrong, but decided not and pushed it away from her mind.

"Before we move on, I'd like to revisit something. You live... in a cupboard, under the stairs, Ms. Potter?" Professor McGonagal asked.

Harry nodded.

"Is there no room for you anywhere else?"

Harry bit her lip. She didn't want to seem like she was complaining, but she didn't want to lie to the nice people she'd met either. She'd lied too much today anyway.

"Well, there is, sort of. There's a spare room in the house that Dudley uses for his toys. I don't mind being under the stairs. I don't have a lot of stuff anyway, so it isn't an issue."

Harry felt proud for being truthful without whinging.

"And why did you have to hide the letter from your relatives?" Johnathan asked.

"They might have gotten angry. I... sort of figured out that my uncle was hiding the letters from me. I don't think they want me to go - Uncle Vernon especially hates all things magic. When I was really pretty little, I did... 'accidental magic'. I didn't know what it was back then, but it made my uncle very, very angry. He hit me when he saw it and I didn't get dinner for a week."

Harry looked up very quickly, "B-but even though they don't want me to go, I still want to! I really, really want to go to Hogwarts! I can't imagine there's anything I want more! Can I attend without parental permission? Oh, please!"

Johnathan was very pale. Professor McGonagal looked livid, like a junk yard dog about to start barking. Harry was ashamed of herself. She wasn't sure what had made them angry, but hated herself for messing up already.

"I promise you, Ms. Potter, regardless of what your relatives think, you will attend our school. I will make sure of that personally. There is nothing to be afraid of, Ms. Potter, I assure you."

Did she look afraid? Harry took what the professor said to heart and tried to smile.

"Tonight, you will stay in the castle with me, Ms. Potter. I will be in touch with your... relatives." Professor McGonagal said the word distastefully.

Harry was elated. How wonderful!

"Johnathan, thank you for helping out Ms. Potter. I can take things for here. I'm sure the school would like to reward you for doing a large part of the job we should have done for us, so expect my owl."

Johnathan reached up as if to tip a hat he forgot he wasn't wearing and said a goodbye to Harry. Before he left, he stuffed several sandwiches into his pockets - that made Harry giggle.

When he left, the room was momentarily quiet.

"Ms. Potter. We need to take you shopping for your school things, but before that, there are some things I need to explain to you. You didn't know about magic at all... what have the Dursleys told you about your parents?"

"They said they died in a car crash. They were drunk when it happened. It was very good of my aunt and uncle to take in an orphan like me." Harry said.

Professor McGonagal shook her head. "That was a lie." _Are they not dead?_ "Your parents were heroes, Harry. War heroes, to be precise. Years ago, there was an uprising in our world, founded on hatred and led by a very evil, very powerful man. Few could stand against him - this wizard was one of the most powerful in our world."

Harry was entranced in the story, on the edge of her seat. So what had happened?

Professor McGonagal continued, "He was so feared that even today, years after his defeat, many fear to speak his name. That name was... Voldemort. He is called You-know-who. It is important you know his true name and in many cases say it, but I recommend you take care in where you say the awful name. To some people, it is thoughtless and rude. Many died fighting against him in this war.

"For an unknown reason, Voldemort targeted your parents in particular. They were forced into hiding, with you, where we thought you were safe. But in the end, he found them. He killed them both." Harry gasped, horrified, "But you survived. More than that, you somehow injured You-know-who. Killed him even, many think. That's made you more or less a hero in our world. We call you the Girl-Who-Lived. It is a sad tale, but it meant the fall of Voldemort. The safety of our world."

Harry was shocked. "I... I see. That's..."

The professor nodded, "Yes, it's not a happy story, but it's important to know. His followers, called Death-eaters, were many. Maybe even more than there were on our side, the side of the Light. At the end of the war, many escaped punishment for their crimes. These people might hate you and even try to act against you. You must be careful."

Harry nodded. She was feeling a little frightened, but did manage to assure herself with thoughts of storybooks. There was always an enemy. And a battle. In the end, the good side prevailed. So long as she was cautious and careful and brave, she'd be okay.

"I am sorry that you had to hear that. And I know, sometimes I can be blunt, but I think it's better you hear it all at once. If you would excuse me for a moment, I'll let the others know what has happened, then I'll take you to Diagon Alley - a wizarding marketplace, more or less. We can purchase your school supplies."

"I don't have any money." Harry said, her voice a little weak.

The professor didn't smile, but her face was gentle and friendly, "I know that your parents left a fund for you, just for this reason. And even if they did not, Hogwarts has money set aside for students who need help."

Harry smiled as a thank you.

She felt a little uncomfortable all alone in the office. She ate some sandwiches and drank some tea and stared out the window, but all over felt a little strange. She was happy, elated, to know that she was a witch about to be attending a magic school where she'd learn spells, potions, and amazing things. But she was also sad. Discomfited. The death of her parents...

When Professor McGonagal returned, they left in the same way Johnathan had taken her to Hogwarts.

Arriving in the alley, all unhappy thoughts went, for now, right out of Harry's head. There was magic everywhere! Wizards and witches walked the streets in brightly colored robes. Magical creatures accompanied them. In the windows where incredible devices and objects. In one, she even saw broomsticks - she couldn't wait until she rode broomsticks!

Professor McGonagal actually smiled a little at Harry's face.

"Though it's very exciting, we should first start with your wardrobe - those clothes don't fit you very well. I'll make a receipt and charge it to your account directly." Professor McGonagal appeared fully prepared and organized.

The clothing shop was called Madam Malkins. Harry was fitted for school robes, for a single set of dress robes, and for a small amount of casual wear. She was allowed to pick as she liked, but followed all of Professor McGonagal's advice to a tee, buying not very much and making sure what she did buy was inexpensive and relatively plain - comfort was valued most highly. Unique and special items were noted in Harry's mind - dragon hide gloves and boots! How cool.

Next, to a luggage shop. She purchased a large, mundane trunk that would hold all her things and a satchel to carry for class everyday. She forced Professor McGonagal to promise to teach her how to cast enlarging and weightless charms later, as she was enthralled by those far more expensive magical items.

She purchased a beginner's potion kit, the books in her letter, a telescope, and some basic supplies, like quills and parchment.

At the wand shop, Professor McGonagal stood with erect posture and very close to Harry. She fixed the shop-keeper with a stern eye and watched carefully as Harry tried out wands.

She ended up with a wand made of holly wood with a phoenix feather core. She had no idea what that meant, but was very pleased none-the-less. She was so eager to try it out, but the professor made her put it in her wrist holster and wait until later.

"And would you like a pet as well, Ms. Potter? You don't need an owl - the school has ones you can use - but many students enjoy having a familiar."

Harry considered. Oh~, she would love a pet. Wouldn't that be so much fun? A cute cat or a magic owl... but in the end she shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. I'd like to have a pet someday, but I don't think I want to take the responsibility to care for one right now. There's so much for me to learn about this incredible new world - it wouldn't be right for me to have a pet when I know I'm going to be so busy. Next year, I think, I would love to have a cat."

The professor nodded approvingly and together, they Apparated back to the castle. Harry was exhausted - there had been so much excitement today!

Once back, Professor McGonagal led Harry down to the kitchens - the professor was too busy to stay and eat with her, but assured Harry she would return after Harry had finished her meal in the company of the house elves.

Harry was very impressed with the little creatures. They were kind and very full of energy. Best of all, they seemed so happy to have Harry with them. The dinner they made for her was amazing - a lamb pie, vinegar'd vegetables, rolls of bread, pumpkin juice, and a gigantic slice of chocolate cake (her favorite) for dessert! Harry hadn't eaten that much for a long time - maybe ever. She made sure to thank the house elves enthusiastically and they were clearly happy with her praise.

After quite a while, Professor McGonagal returned. There was a very old man with her - he had a sheepish, ashamed look on his face. Professor McGonagal seemed to be very angry with him.

Still though, the old man looked very important. Harry brushed off her shirt and shook to greet them, even bowing her head a little bit.

"Ms. Potter, this is Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore held out his hand for her to shake. Harry did so happily. She remembered his name from her letter - Professor Dumbledore had many titles.

"I am so pleased to finally meet you, Harriet." Dumbledore said to her, truly looking like he was.

Harry was a little embarrassed he'd used her first name when Professor McGonagal used her last, but a little happy about it too.

"It's good to meet you too, Headmaster." Harry said.

McGonagal spoke next, "The Headmaster has agreed to an idea of mine. You obviously need a place to stay and aside from in the dorms, we don't have any free beds. I'd hate to set you up on a couch somewhere, and while we could put you into one of the dorms, I feel it would prejudice you against the other Houses - you see, here at Hogwarts, students are each assigned a 'House' when they first come to the school. This House will dictate where you room in the castle, where your common areas are, and your class schedule. The different Houses compete with each other in a sport and in classes. They also are an example of the traits you value, each House having different valued traits."

"The four Houses," Professor Dumbledore said, "Are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your par-"

Professor McGonagal cut him off, in Harry's eyes a little rudely. "Gryffindor stands for bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalry. Ravenclaw stands for intelligence, knowledge, and wit. Hufflepuff stands for hard work, patience, loyalty, and fair play. Slytherin stands for ambition, cunning, and resourefulness. Whichever House you end up in is acceptable - you should be in whichever House suits you." The professor gave Dumbledore a bit of glare - Harry wondered what the kind-looking old man had done.

"And you want me to choose which one I'll be in." Harry said.

"Not exactly," Said Dumbledore, producing a curious hat from his robes, "We have a special ceremony to do that. Normally - " He gave Professor McGonagal a somewhat withering look, "All students are sorted, using the Sorting Hat, at the same time at the start of the year, but your professor would prefer we did this now."

"You simply wear the hat and it will assign you a House. The hat speaks to you in your mind - you need not worry, as it won't betray any of your secrets, but it will look directly into your memories."

That was a little off-putting, but Harry nodded and accepted the hat from Dumbledore. There were even magical, thought-reading hats in the world. Harry didn't know what to think.

Standing there, a little awkwardly, Harry put the hat on her head.

_"Hmm. Bit early for the first years, isn't it? I see, I see."_ Said a strange voice.

_That's the hat_. Harry thought to herself.

_"Yes, thickhead, I am the hat, here to sort you - a difficult problem."_

Harry blushed. She was a little embarrassed. What if she thought of something bad? Oh no, there she goes...

The hat laughed loudly inside her mind as together they watched an image of Harry stealing chocolate cake from the school cafeteria in Surrey - something she still felt very guilty about and had never admitted to anyone.

_"You're dishonest..."_ Said the hat.

_No!_ Thought Harry. Well... yes, she supposed she was. She hated herself for that and many other things. Storybooks always said lying was bad, and stealing too. She certainly wasn't a very good person. That meant Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were out, she supposed. How sad.

_"Not necessarily,"_ Said the hat,_ "Hm... you're a thinker. Introverted, not exactly shy... Not always the brightest perse, but very good in school, with a love of reading. You'd fit well in Ravenclaw." _

_I like the sound of Ravenclaw._ Harry thought.

_"Oh, we aren't done yet,"_ Said the hat, _"You might be a better fit in Slytherin. You could do great things in Slytherin..." _

Harry pursed her lips, "I don't know. They're all good traits." Oops! She'd said that out loud.

The hat seemed to have heard her anyway. _"Yes. No House is truly greater than the others, because everyone is different, and what's important is finding where you belong, not necessarily what is the greatest for you."_

_Is this... well, very important? Is it something I'm sure to regret later?_ Harry asked, thinking directly.

_"I assure you, Harry. Any House you choose will be for you a good fit and I think you and I have both already made up our minds."_

The way the hat said that, it made it sound like what she decided was also important. She didn't have time to ask about that - the hat shouted (literally shouted) "**RAVENCLAW**!" into the faces of her future professors.

Dumbledore had a strangely annoyed look. McGonagal seemed momentarily disappointed, but then looked happy. Strange. In any case, they took the hat off her head, Dumbledore wished her a goodnight and left with a sweep of robes, and Professor McGonagal led her to 'Ravenclaw Tower'.

"Ms. Potter, the teachers all know the locations of all the houses, but to the students, they are mostly unknown. We prefer to keep it this way - tradition. And one more thing you should be aware of," Professor McGonagal stopped in front of a peculiar knocker on a wall, "The door to the tower will only open if you answer a riddle or question it presents you. A somewhat obtuse system, but it promotes learning and intelligence. Knock here and it will speak to you."

Curious. Harry nodded and raised the knocker, gently banging it to make a sound. She shrieked (just a little) when it moved under her hand.

It spoke in a melodious voice, "Zeno fires an arrow. If everything when it occupies an equal space is at rest, and if that which is in locomotion is always occupying such a space at any moment, the flying arrow is therefore motionless. If the arrow does not move at any instant during its flight, when does it move?"

Professor McGonagal made a noise, but Harry ignored her.

"Mm-mm." She said, "Your premise contains a fallacy: the idea that motion is measured in meters. Motion is meters-per-second. That is, within an instant the arrow will move zero meters, but an instant is zero seconds. The arrow must move from the start of its flight to end."

And like the magic that it was, the wall opened up before them.

What was inside was beautiful. The room was decorated in blue and bronze with big, noise-absorbing curtains over the walls. There were desks, plush chairs, all kinds of wonderful places to be. A statue of a beautiful woman wearing a striking tiara. The most incredible part was the ceiling: it was painted with all the stars of the night sky in perfectly accurate arrangement. Amazing.

For some reason, Professor McGonagal had appeared momentarily shocked, but she recovered quickly and led Harry upstairs. The things they had purchased in Diagon Alley were somehow already there, even Harry's robes.

"We forget to get you a set to sleep in," McGonagal said.

"I can sleep in my day-clothes, that's just fine," Harry said, in awe of the private space that would be hers. Her bed was enormous and there was a personal desk next to it. There were only three other such spaces in the room - three roommates. How wonderful!

"Showers are through the back." The professor said, indicating, "I imagine you would like to take one before you sleep. In the mean time, I'll fetch you a pair of my old ones - I can shrink them to your size for tonight. Do you remember how to get to the kitchens and my office from here?"

Harry nodded. Of course she did, it wasn't much to remember. Strangely, McGonagal seemed a little impressed.

"Good. In the morning, you should have your breakfast there and then go find me afterwards. Make sure that you get enough sleep, we're in no hurry."

Harry nodded and said good night, then in a fit of rashness hugged the professor before she could go.

"Thank you," She said, her eyes tearing up as usual. Embarrassed of herself, Harry turned and ran to the showers before Professor McGonagal could say anything.

All in all, it had been a very magical day and Harry felt the first of many such magical days.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry woke very early, because she was used to doing that. Her back felt amazing! She'd never slept on such a soft mattress. Professor McGonagal's old nightgown was very comfortable - the fabric was soft and light and it had been altered to fit her perfectly.

As she had time, Harry went to take another shower before breakfast. Maybe a little greedy, but last night had felt wonderful as the strong, hot water worked the weariness out of her muscles.

She dried her hair carefully and tied it back in a ponytail before putting on a set of her new robes. They were comfortable too! In fact, everything she had touched, ate, or wore in the wizarding world was so perfect. She'd never been so happy in her life.

Breakfast with the house elves was wonderful. They were all very talkative, so she could stay quiet and eat while they giddily rushed about. She was starting to get a handle on their names now - they all spoke in a strange second-person manner, so it was very easy to do.

Harry found herself feeling a little bit guilty. She'd had so many nice things lavished upon her and maybe she didn't really deserve it. She could think about that later. For now, she hurried to Professor McGonagal's office.

The older woman was hard at work writing something at her desk, but her door was open. Harry knocked quietly on the door frame.

It was good to see that the professor wasn't upset to see Harry. She put her things away and waved the young girl inside.

"After you went to bed last night, I did end up getting a chance to speak to your... relatives. And I was able to look around your old home." _Old home... ?_ "What I found there was quite terrible, Harriet."

The way the professor used her first name surprised Harry. Professor McGonagal continued, "From the way you acted yesterday, I don't think you quite understood. The Dursleys were abusive to you, Harriet. We're having them properly investigated by the aurors - our 'police'. I already know what they're going to find. This means changes for you, Harry. Your relatives will be tried and I am certain found guilty of child abuse. Both you and your cousin will be taken from their custody. Jail time is very likely."

"What?" Harry asked, her stomach sinking. Where would she go?

Professor McGonagal reached out across the desk and took Harry's hand in hers. "Don't panic, Harriet. The school itself is going to take charge of you. It was fairly common in older times for unfortunate students to become wards of the school. In history, some muggles have reacted violently to the idea of witchcraft. Cases like this are why the ward system was put into place. I, and all the other teachers, will take personal care of you."

"What does that really mean?" Harry asked.

McGonagal had such a strange look in her eyes, "It means the school is your family, Harriet."

Harry was shocked. Her expression was blank. Then she smiled. A wide smile. Wider, wider. And then she started to cry, but these were happy tears, and they didn't last very long.

When she had composed herself, McGonagal took out her wand, "I believe I made a promise to teach you some charms, didn't I?"

Harry smiled and nodded, taking out her own wand.

"Now, first..."

They practiced and worked for a good few hours. Time seemed to pass very quickly. McGonagal had started by making sure Harry knew how to use her wand. She cast the Levitation Charm and a new spell, _Lumos_, a good few times before McGonagal would let her try anything else. In the end, she didn't manage to enlarge the inside of anything or make anything weightless, but she felt she had learned a lot. All she needed was more practice and she'd be able to do the rest.

Once again, McGonagal didn't eat with her, but she enjoyed the company of the house elves during her lunch. She found herself wondering what would happen to her, in the end. Hogwarts was a boarding school - would she stay here all the time? That didn't seem like a very bad thing at all. She was extremely fond of Professor McGonagal, the house elves, and the castle itself.

The professor was very, very busy and had already taken a lot of her time to teach Harry, so after lunch, Harry quickly offered to spend her time in the library. It wasn't all selfless - Harry was eager to learn about the wizarding world through the books it made.

The library was HUGE. Enormous! So many books! More than at her school and the Surrey library combined. Where could she start? There wasn't a librarian about - summer was her time off. Magic? No, magic could wait, she was learning about that already. History? History was a good bet. A book about the history of Hogwarts caught her eye in particular and she delved into _Hogwarts, A History_ with eagerness.

Days passed in this way. The professor was very busy getting ready for the school year and didn't have much time for Harry, but always practiced with her at least a little in the mornings. After that time, Harry would practice on her own, then have lunch with the house elves, then read in the library or explore the grounds. She didn't feel lonely at all - once or twice she bumped into the other teachers, who were happy to meet her.

Very strangely, she did feel a little homesick.

She didn't have much memory of ever being anywhere other than Privet Drive. Even though this place was infinitely better, everything was so different and new. She never dreamed she would long for her tiny cupboard under the stairs, but she found herself doing exactly that. But the homesick feeling passed quickly and nothing kept her from happiness.

Soon, the castle was a home to her. The teachers were friendly and she liked them, even Snape, who seemed very gruff and shy. She loved taking a book or fifteen from the library and sitting outside by the lake to read. It was truly like paradise and she had no idea what she had ever done to deserve it.

The questions from the knocker were one of her favorite things about her new home. Sometimes she would go outside and come in again just to answer one of the riddles.

"A hotel has an infinite number of rooms. It also has an infinite number of guests staying in those rooms. A man comes to the theoretical hotel to stay. There are an infinite number of rooms, but every room is full. The man is still given a room of his own to stay in. No guests are forced to share rooms. How is this possible?"

That was one of her new favorites. She had to think for a while to solve it.

"The guest in Room 1 can be moved to Room 2 and the guest in Room 2 can be moved to Room 3 and so on... because there is an infinite number of rooms. And the man can stay in the newly vacated Room 1. It's still infinity, not infinity plus one."

The door opened for her. On entering, Harry was a little shocked. The common room wasn't empty like it usually was - Professor Flitwick was there.

"Ah, hello, Ms. Potter. I was just looking for you." The professor said to her.

"Good afternoon, Professor. I was just out walking." Harry replied. She liked her head of house, he seemed like a very smart man.

Professor Flitwick smiled at her. "I understand Professor McGonagal has been giving you lessons in the mornings. She's told me that you're progressing at a rapid rate and have quite a preference for charms. As you know, I am the charms teacher here at Hogwarts and while I'd never want to steal you away from Professor McGonagal, I also understand she's been very busy lately - not your fault, or anyone's fault, it simply is. I, on the other hand, have quite a bit more free time. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to give you these 'extra lessons' myself. I've already discussed this with the professor. If you wouldn't mind... ?"

Harry shook her head, "No, sir. I don't want to be a burden on anyone. I would love to learn under you. Professor McGonagal told me you were a professional dueler."

Flitwick smiled a little pridefully, "Yes, that's correct. While I won't be teaching you dueling perse, the charms I'd like to show you will further your education in most areas. I think it's good for you to get a head start. Honestly, I'd like to do this with all the muggle-borns." Flitwick had a slightly frustrated, unhappy look, "They often start so far behind. Well, if you'd like to start now, we may."

Professor McGonagal was stern, but she didn't work Harry nearly so hard as Professor Flitwick did. Harry found herself advancing far faster under his tutelage. After a while, she was even able to expand her bags and make them weightless. That was a real triumph for her. The professor taught her all kinds of spells. Useful ones, like cleaning spells, fixing spells, size-changing spells, healing spells... and he also taught her things she couldn't really imagine herself using. 'Battle' spells. Lots of battle spells. And not just things like shielding or stunning - things that really could hurt people. The idea made her uncomfortable, but she kept quiet.

With Voldemort's old lackeys lurking around, it was probably a very good thing for her to learn some self-defense.

And she adored magic. Every single part of it.


	5. Chapter 5

"Professor," Harry said to McGonagal over the breakfast they had started eating together, "I think I'd like to ride the Hogwarts Express with the other children."

Professor McGonagal seemed perplexed, "Why? I don't think the other students would think any less of you for not riding with them."

"I know," Said Harry, "But I would imagine that's when everyone meets everyone else. I mean, you could Apparate the students all to Hogwarts instead of making them take an all-day train ride. I want to take the chance to make friends before it's too late and I'm left out."

"All right," Said the professor, returning to her eggs.

"Um... would it be okay if I went through the sorting ceremony too?" Harry asked.

McGonagal gave her a knowing look, "I don't think that has anything to do with making friends." She said.

Harry whined, "I know! But, well... I'm different enough already. I don't want anyone thinking I got special treatment because I'm the Girl-Who-Lived! I think... that is kind of what happened, but I don't want them thinking that. You told me about the paper."

Both of them looked down. The magical trial of the Dursleys wasn't exactly kept a great secret. The world had heard about it and exactly why it happened as well as exactly who was involved. Already, Harry had started receiving letters of sympathy from wizards and witches across the country. It was a very awkward situation. Everyone in wizarding Britain knew where she lived and her history at the Dursleys'. The paper had painted her as some kind of tragic figure and Harry hated that. She wanted to be seen as strong.

"All right." The professor said again, "I won't lie for you, Harry. If anyone asks me, I'll tell them about your personal sorting, but I won't bring it up and I won't keep you from pretending to be sorted again."

"Thank you." Harry said gratefully.

At that moment, an owl flew in through the open window. For Harry, it seemed. She nodded a 'thank-you' at the owl and offered it her plate, from which it took a cube of ham.

The letter wasn't from anyone she knew. It seemed to be a sympathy letter, again. She read through the whole thing anyways.

_From some 'Lucius Malfoy'... my son is about your age... so sorry for... it isn't right that... a witch of your blood purity and status..._

She pursed her lip in annoyance. Fairly recently, she'd learned about the whole 'pure blood' thing and she certainly didn't approve of the idea. It was racism, basically. Disgusting. But she reminded herself not to be too angry at the individual. This Lucius Malfoy was just the product of a corrupt culture he'd grown up in. She wouldn't hold his ideas against him or his son.

There was a gift with it too. A very pretty emerald and silver necklace. Harry gasped out loud when she pulled it from the packaging. She didn't understand how people could send her things that were so expensive!

"Another gift?" Professor McGonagal asked.

Harry nodded. She wanted to send it back, but the professor had taught her that doing so could be considered very rude in pureblood wizarding culture. What she should do was keep it and discourage any further gifts in her return letter.

Well, it wasn't so bad. The necklace was very pretty.

She penned her return letter as she ate, since the owl was waiting for her.

_Thank you... far too kind... too generous... look forward to meeting your son... newspaper reports greatly exaggerated... signed Harriet Potter..._

She sealed the letter and gave it to the owl, who flew off again. Harry put the necklace around her neck after casting a quick charm to see if it might be cursed or enchanted. Not because she was suspicious, but because Flitwick insisted she always do so. There was nothing extraordinary about the necklace, just a strength charm and a stay-clean charm, which were both very common.

Her necklace fell into her robes, hiding it from general view.

"Professor Flitwick has given me the day off. I think I'm going to - " Harry was cut off as another owl flew in through the window, "Another one..." Harry whispered to herself.

But this letter didn't look like the others. It had a businesslike look to it. From Gringotts... she thought, seeing the address.

The goblins had written her an apology - but not like the ones she received from the wizards. This wasn't for 'allowing' her to live with the Dursleys or anything like that. Rather, it was an apology for never writing to her before.

_We at Gringotts... deeply sorry for this grave... were not aware of muggle... your vault... your parents' will..._

"My parents' will!?" Harry cried out. So apparently... her guardian was meant to see about that when she was old enough to understand, but because they were never informed, that never happened. She - she would get to see her parents' will. They said there was a letter for her...

The goblins wished for her to come to the bank at her soonest convenience. She explained the situation to McGonagal and took the floo network immediately.

Two well-dressed goblins seemed to be waiting for her.

"Lady Potter," Said one, literally bowing to her.

"Oh, um, I'm not a lady. I'm just Harry." Harry responded.

The goblins gave each other a look but didn't say anything. Instead, they lead Harry into a back room - a little spartan, but very formal. There was a desk there and two armchairs. The goblins left her there.

She felt a little on edge and sat down in one of the armchairs. Within moments, she was joined by another goblin - not one of the first two, she noted, but someone completely different. Yet another goblin entered the room and moved to a dark corner - and he seemed to be taking notes.

"Lady Potter, I and the whole of Gringotts are deeply ashamed. We have made a terrible mistake and caused you great misfortune."

"N-no, I'm sure..." Harry said, but the goblins barely seemed to notice she was speaking.

"We _have_ made a mistake. After the death of James and Lily Potter, for a short time the country was still fighting a war. The mindset of war most certainly continued. In this time, the will of the wizards' two greatest recent heroes was forgotten. Swept away along with their daughter. We of Gringotts place the blame for this entirely on ourselves. We are at fault for the injustice you have endured at the hands of those -."

Harry didn't recognize his last word. She supposed it was goblin. "I assure you, sir, what the Prophet reported was greatly exaggerated. And I am certain you are not to blame. In the muggle world, paperwork gets lost all the time. I'm only really here... because you said you had a letter from my parents."

The goblin nodded. "I will get that for you immediately. After you have read it, we can talk about the other matters."

The goblin shouted something to someone outside the room, startling Harry just a bit. When the door opened, she was able to glimpse several goblins waiting outside.

The fragile paper was given to her. With trembling hands, she unfolded the letter and began to read to herself.

_My dearest Harry, _

_If you are reading this now, it is because your father and I have not survived. I am so sorry to leave you, my darling daughter, especially with the world such a terrible mess. I can only take comfort in knowing that even without me, you will be safe and happy. Your godfather Sirius has promised to spirit you out of the country, some way, some how, if things should ever go sour. _

_Though I so dearly hope that they will not, I must take that as a possibility. _

_Your father and I want you to be brave, darling. I wish I knew how old you are as you read this. Ten, maybe? Eleven? And how many years have we been out of your life? Do you remember us? It's painful for me to think about. _

_You must know that we love you dearly. As I write this, I see you playing in the other room with your father, on that little toy broom you love so much. I can't imagine a world where I'm not there to protect you. So I have to also say, be strong. There is wrong in this world, and you must fight it. The world is not a fair place, but never lie down and accept it. Fight, my little girl. Brave and strong is how I imagine you. _

_And more than that, I imagine you happy. Joyful. Living your life to the fullest, even if without us. Have friends you trust. Learn, live, love. When you are old enough (whenever that is) find someone to be happy with. A boy or a girl, so long as you are smiling, I know I will be looking down on you from heaven, smiling too. _

_Love you always,_  
><em>Mom<em>

Harry had started crying immediately, of course. As if she could ever experience emotion without breaking into tears. She made a silent promise to her mother in heaven, if heaven existed._ I will be brave. I will be strong. And mother, I am already happy._

She read the letter over again two more times, then folded it again and tucked it into her robes. She composed herself, then turned to face the goblin who had watched her break apart.

Even the goblin's stern face showed compassion.

"The will doesn't say much. You are left the majority of the family funds, besides your school vault, the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow, and status as Head of the Potter family. The last is the most valuable. You, even at eleven years old, have a significant say in our government, being able to appoint who you choose to serve on the Wizengamot in your stead until you are seventeen. As Head of House, you have many adult privledges and responsibilites, and in the eyes of magic itself, you are seen as an adult. To be Head of House is also a status symbol among purebloods - you are a very valuable marriage candidate, as whichever man marries you will become Head himself and take your name."

"I..." Harry said, trying to keep thinking through all the emotions she was feeling, "Is this public knowledge?"

"Yes. There is no way for you to hide your status, it is now official in all records."

"I see." Harry said simply.

"As Head of House, you are expected to wear the official Potter family ring. We have it here - it was kept in the vault when the Potters went into hiding."

Another goblin rushed inside the room and presented Harry with a small wooden box. She took it, nodding at the goblin, and opened it. The ring inside was of rubies and gold and bore a lion crest - very similar to the Gryffindor crest, she noted. She put it on her finger, as she was expected to do, and felt a sudden rush of magical movement through her. She felt incredibly drained, like the ring had sucked all of her energy away.

"Did that... ?" Harry asked.

"Very often, House rings are imbued with magic. The Potter House ring, I believe, will store magical power inside itself, to be used in protecting you. While wearing that ring, it is very difficult for you to be poisoned or injured, but it will drain heavily on your magical energy. While the intensity will be far less once the ring has created a reserve, the pull you feel now you will feel as long as you wear it."

Harry nodded. She was now exhausted emotionally and physically.

"Thank you, sir. Is that all?" She asked.

The goblin shook his head. "While... such mistakes may happen in the muggle world more often, in the goblin world, what has happened is deeply shameful."

Swiftly, the goblin drew out a sword from seemingly nowhere, momentarily scaring Harry out of her wits. He didn't move to attack her with it - rather, he presented the handle to her to take.

"This sword is named Potentia. It is a goblin-made weapon - we do not give these out lightly."

Harriet nodded solemnly. She had read about goblins and their forged items. The sword of Godric Gryffindor had been a similar gift and created lots of tension between the goblin and wizarding nation. She certainly wasn't going to try to turn down such an important gift.

It was immensely heavy. She struggled a bit when she first took it in her hands. As far as she knew, the blade was pretty thin, but still such a huge weight. From the length, or the material?

"I take it you have never before wielded a blade." The goblin said, not rudely, but matter-of-factly.

"No," Harriet said, "Honestly, I'm not in the best shape either."

"I can hardly imagine you would be." The goblin said, likely referring to what he knew of her upbringing. She blushed in embarrassment.

"The goblin nation is certainly willing to provide lessons for use with your weapon, free of charge. But in the mean time, you may use your weapon now, to kill me."

"Kill you?" Harry shrieked, maybe a little too loud, "Why would I do that?"

"Because I am the one whose responsibility it was to manage the Potter vaults. I am the one to blame for the abuse you suffered at the hands of the Dursleys."

"No," Harry said, putting the sword down on the desk and taking on a determined expression, "I don't believe that. And even if it was, I am certainly not going to kill you over it! I don't practice that. I don't approve of needless killing. And I should tell you, sir, the newspaper has greatly exaggerated what happened to me..."

"We goblins have never trusted the Phropet. We took our information straight from the court documents. It is clear that the Dursleys abused you mentally, physically, and emotionally. Even after all the time you've spent living in Hogwarts castle, I can see how thin you still are. And this is my fault. The legal system will deal with the Dursleys. Take your revenge on me." The calm way that he spoke... was so unnerving, "Gringotts has already arranged for my replacement."

Harry stared at him, right in the eyes, feeling a fiery determination. "Give me the scabbard." She said.

The goblin obeyed her, not saying a word, produced the scabbard for the sword and gave it to her. Harry quickly put the blade away into it and strapped it to her waist.

"This sword is a noble gift," Harry said, one hand on it flatly "But I quite honestly hope it will never taste blood. I am not a warrior. I do plan to fight injustice, but with words, not with steel. I will fight using democracy, and argument, and empathy long before I use _Potentia_. What use is killing your enemy? Another will rise in his place. I do know," Harry looked down, her eyes cloudy, "That there are some places where violence truly is the only solution." She looked up, "But this is not that place. Right now, I don't care about goblin traditions. I will not kill you."

The goblin seemed speechless. Harry extended her hand - a universal gesture.

"I'd like to be partners with Gringotts - not enemies." The goblin, after a moment, nodded and shook her hand.

"And what do you mean by 'fight injustice'?" The goblin asked her.

"Exactly that. Even in the short time I've been in the magical world, I've noticed how things are terribly unfair to so many. I want to fight for all magical creatures, since its clear no one else is going to. Equality for all races and the end of prejudice. Since I don't want to do battle, I know that will take a long time. I do have a plan, though. My face is famous. Lots of people respect me for something I don't even remember. I'll use that. Like a muggle princess, I've found my cause, so now I'm going to spread my message. I... always had a childish idea that I'd be some kind of hero. With all the fame behind my back, now I have the power to do that. If I just speak up and raise my voice, I know people will hear me and I know people will think. Maybe it's naive, but I believe that most people are good at heart. All they need is for someone to let them know they're wrong and give them a second chance."

The goblin swallowed, then spoke. The words were indecipherable - something goblin.

"So long as you hold those ideals, I promise to fight beside you." The goblin said.

"And me as well!" Said the goblin in the corner, who was still taking notes. Harry had quite forgotten that he was there.

"Then tell me your names," Harry said, smiling, "I can always use more friends."

When Harry went home, she felt happy and fulfilled. She had always wanted to go through with those plans, but now that she'd said them aloud, they felt real. She had a goal and she would attain it. Work hard and fix the things that were wrong. She could do it and she would do it.


End file.
